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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705643">cross my heart, hope to die, please stick this pencil in my eye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagingevilspawn/pseuds/pagingevilspawn'>pagingevilspawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grey's Anatomy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, alex is done, alex swears like a sailor, but we deserved our big jolex family, dont know why i made so many kids for a one-shot, geometry proofs, i put way too much thought into picking out these names, jolex, math homework, this is a mess, what are these tags?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagingevilspawn/pseuds/pagingevilspawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>from the prompt: Would you please write a fic about alex and jo help their daughter with her homework, they would be kinda cute help them study</p>
<p>or...</p>
<p>alex and jo help their daughter with her math homework.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Karev/Jo Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cross my heart, hope to die, please stick this pencil in my eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>cross-posted on my tumblr and wattpad: pagingevilspawn! this is so bad, but i figured i gotta post something on here since i don't know when the next chapter of LYIALG will be up...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alex Karev sat in the drivers side of his SUV, making a right onto the upcoming street as he listened to the song playing on the radio. He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel absentmindedly, pulling up to the curbside of James Madison Middle School, waiting patiently in his seat until he heard the five minute warning bell ring.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the loud bell goes off, he exits the car and makes his way to the other side, learning against the door so his kids would know it was him. Too many parent’s owned black range rovers, and the last thing Alex needed was for either one of his kids to climb into the back seat of some stranger's car. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need to wait long for children to start piling out of the school in large crowds. Middle school was so different from elementary, for his kids at least. He remembers when they would come sprinting out of the building as if their lives depended on it, but now they just casually strolled, no matter how much they liked or disliked school. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later he catches sight of his daughter, who’s eyes light up when she sees him. He wasn’t supposed to pick them up today, the nanny was. But he had gotten off of work early and had insisted with Jo that he be the one to pick up the kids. It was a task he wished he got to do more often. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” his daughter greets him with a smile on her face. He steps aside and lets her enter the side door, where she flops her black backpack on the floor and settles into the seat, pulling out her phone and begins to start scrolling through it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad!” he hears another voice exclaim, quickly tracing it to his son, who was currently running to the car, backpack bouncing up and down behind him. The sixth grader moved across the property quickly, greeting his dad with a fistbump before silding into the back seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He closes both of his kids doors before making his way into the driver's side, revving up the car’s engine before he drives down the long block, whatever music his daughter decided on playing through the radio. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex winces when the music begins to blare through the car, “Brynn, turn that crap down would you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn’s face looks scandalized. “It’s not crap. It’s art.” she emphasizes, turning it up even louder and screaming the words. (Poor brynn couldn’t sing, and she knew it)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I came in like a wreeckingggg ballll I never hit so harddd in loveeee all i wanted was to break your walls all you ever did wre-e-e-ck meee.” she yells, using her phone as a microphone, hair flying around wildly as she moved up and down, side to side in her seat.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smile on his lips. His wife and daughter were too much alike sometimes. He turns the knob himself, sending his daughter a look, silently telling her not to do it again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s crap. Just like how I think you sound like a dying cat whenever you sing.” his son pipes in from the back, a signature Karev smirk plastered on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on his phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up Rory,” she sneers, “Nobody likes you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rory fakes a laugh, looking back to his phone, and then to the scenery outside his window. They passed house after house until they finally reached their destination, John Quincy Adams Elementary School.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait here,” Alex instructs the two kids, who murmurs their </span>
  <em>
    <span>we know’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>, more focused on the devices in their hand to the words coming out of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He makes his way to the ‘log cabin’ that sat at the front of the school, giving a friendly smile to the woman sitting at the sign out table, a crappy fold out plastic table that had definitely seen better days. “Faye and Bridgette Karev.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman slides the forms across the table, handing him a pen. “Sign here and here. I’ll go get them right now.” She stands up from her seat and heads inside to tell the two girls that their father had arrived.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex sprawls his messy signature onto the page, huffing before leaning up against the gate. His girls could take anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes to pack up their things. Luckily today didn’t seem to be the latter, because before he knew it, the two youngest Karev’s came bouncing towards him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddy!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Daddy!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The seven year olds gave him a large hug, showing him matching toothless smiles. When Jo and him found out that she was pregnant for a third time, they were overjoyed. They had always wanted more than two kids, but hadn’t really been actively trying. They were excited to expand their family of four into a family of five. When they discovered that she was not carrying not one, but two babies, they were shocked. Jo wasn’t expecting to get pregnant at thirty-nine, much less with twins. Brynn was seven at the time, and Rory was five, so they were worried about how their kids would react when they found out two new babies would be joining the Karev household. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rory —surprisingly— took the news really well. He was excited with the fact that he could have baby brothers. (Oh well. Alex Karev only seemed to make girls, Rory being the one exception.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn was a bit more reluctant. She had heard from her friends at school how much babies cried and stole all the attention. She loved both her parent’s equally, but she was a Daddy’s girl through and through. The thought of losing both of her parent’s focus was terrifying. What if her Daddy called her new siblings names like Bug or Princess? Those were her names, and her names only. She couldn’t let the new babies steal her names. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It took a while, but after multiple long talks and countless acts of reassurance, but Brynn eventually came around to the idea. Before they knew it, Brynn was just as excited for the upcoming babies as they were. Jo was worried throughout her whole pregnancy. Since she was almost forty, she was now considered to have a geriatric pregnancy. Just the word ‘geriatric’ did nothing to soothe any woman’s nerves, but add that to the fact that Jo was a surgeon and knew all the risks of pregnancy, and she was practically a mess the first few months. As it turned out, the twins ended up being her easiest pregnancy, since Brynn decided to make her entrance into the world four weeks early and while she was carrying Rory she had the occasional spotting that terrified her to her core every time, worried that she was miscarrying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The twins ended up being born at thirty-five weeks, perfectly healthy. The only thing that gave Jo any trouble at all was the severe morning sickness, which turned out to be all day sickness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But in the end it was way more than worth it. Faye was pretty much Jo reincarnated, just like Brynn. Every aspect about her was exactly like her mom. Her hair, her eyes, her face shape, chin. The only thing that she inherited was the Karev crooked grin, which all of their children had. (She didn’t even have a big Karev head when she was born!) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bridgette on the other hand, was all Alex, except for the eye color. Between her potty mouth, sassy attitude, and overall appearance, she was the female mini evil-spawn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Evil Spawn Jr, title belonged to Rory, who was basically the male version of Bridgette. Same spunk, same mischievous smirk. Jo was always telling him that she didn’t know what she did to deserve three devil’s in her house. Alex always found that one </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys got everything?” he questions the two, who nod their heads up and down enthusiastically, skipping to the car and greeting their siblings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He drives the twenty-five minutes back to his house, the twins chattering about in the back seat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And then Julie showed her her math problems, and I tried to tell her they were wrong, but she just wouldn’t listen!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy was sooo annoying. I kept telling him to stop making noises with his pencil, but he just rolled it back and forth so many times!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex laughs under his breath, listening partially to the twins’s conversation. They sounded exactly like how Cristina and Mer used to rant about completely different things to each other, so it never failed to make him think back to the ‘olden days’ as he and Meredith liked to call them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If someone were to tell cocky, intern Alex that he would be happily married to the love of his life for (legally) fifteen years, father of four kids, and lived in a house that literally had a white picket fence on the outside of it, he would’ve sent them to a long term psychiatric care facility, because there was no way he would ever have that life. (A life he always secretly wanted, tucked into the very tiniest corner of his brain so it could never venture farther than a fleeting thought here or there). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“—We’re here,” he calls out, shutting off the engine as he parks in the driveway, the kids unbuckling their seatbelts and scrambling out of the car, eager to escape the confines of the vehicle and enjoy the peace of their rooms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once all five were inside, he watched as the four children parted ways. “Faye, Bridge, you have thirty minutes of reading down here. Ror, you have that history test you need to study for, and Brynn, you know what you need to do.” he says, his two oldest tromping up the stairs as the twins take their place in the living room on separate seats, already engrossed in the books they needed to read as part of their daily homework assignments. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex lets out a tired sigh as he flops onto the couch, more than tempted to grab the remote from the side table and flick on ESPN, but knew that he couldn’t. As much as the girls loved reading, they got distracted from books really easily. Loud horns, cheers, and buzzers wouldn’t be the way to go if he wanted any work to get done. Instead, he plucks the iPad from the coffee table, picking up where he left off that morning with an online medical article.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, Faye and Bridgette’s timer had rung out and they started on their math homework on the kitchen island, something that they finished with ease. Another trait Alex was grateful the children inherited from Jo, her smarts. (Specifically in math)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh!” he hears a loud exclaim from upstairs, causing him to look up from the device in his hands and glance towards the steps, half expecting an angry looking Brynn to come storming out at any moment. He huffs, focusing his attention back to the iPad in hand when no mini Jo comes down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! There are no other ways!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another loud groan of frustration. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Son of a butthead! There are NO more ways! None! I don't know how the frick to prove that the freakin angle is congruent!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex debates ignoring it and letting his daughter figure it out on his own, that is until he hears something hit a wall. He quickly makes his way up the stairs and to Brynn’s bedroom, standing in the doorway for a few seconds, trying to observe the scene. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn’s normally pristine room had books scattered on the ground, blankets thrown to the side, and an open notebooks posed at an awkward angle on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, at least he knew what hit the wall.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn sat on her bed, literally glaring at her computer screen, partially debating whether or not to throw the expensive device across the room. She didn’t break eye contact, as if she was in a staring contest. Alex wanted to laugh, but he knew a deathly glare would be sent his way if he did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knocks on the wood door, sending a questioning glance Brynn’s way as she finally breaks her stare with the inanimate object. “Everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brunette huffs loudly, bouncing back onto the bed as she lets out a groan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate proofs.” she turns her head to look at her dad, Jo’s signature puppy dog face plastered on her features. He couldn’t help but chuckle. It was crazy how much Brynn looked like Jo. Add that onto the fact that she too shared a love for flannels and jeans, she was pretty much what he imagined a fourteen year old Jo to look like. When he first found out that Brynn was going to be a girl, he said to Jo, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’m gonna need a gun.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, that never happened, partially because of the fact that Alex hated guns and Brynn had yet to have a boyfriend. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than thankful for that. Especially since he’d seen couples at Brynn’s school canoodling in what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> was private, even though they were in full view of everyone. He’d be fine with his not-so-little little girl dating when she was twenty-five, no earlier. Any man before that would not be very fortunate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll help,” Alex says, taking a spot next to her and Brynn begins to show he dad the problems on her screen, going on about how she was struggling to figure it out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shouldn’t be too hard, right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo Karev was thrilled when Bailey offered to take over her service for the rest of the day. Her husband had gotten off early, and Bailey knew how much of a struggle it was to spend quality time with family as a surgeon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She thanked Bailey so many times she lost count, all while boasting a large smile. She couldn’t remember the last time both she and Alex had been home before five o’clock. All she wanted was to go home, snuggle with her babies, and spend time with her husband. Well, her babies weren’t technically babies anymore, Brynn was fourteen, Rory was nearly twelve, and the twins were seven, but nevertheless, they would always be her babies. (Who cared if Rory was five foot three and already almost as tall as her? He was still such a mommy’s boy.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She drove home with a smile on her face, humming along to the songs on the radio. She was so happy. She wanted to take her kids in her arms, and watch action movies on the couch while they pigged out on pizza together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she pulls up in the drive she practically bounces up the steps to the house, swinging open the door and dropping her coat carelessly onto the rack. She hadn’t texted Alex to let him know she was coming home early, in hopes to make it a joyful surprise. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart stopped momentarily at the sound of yelling coming from upstairs. Arguments between Brynn and Alex were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were nasty. Alex always felt like crap for days afterward and Brynn stayed quiet, both at home and at school. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do the reflexive property again!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad we already did that!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well do it again!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you see any other way to do it?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How is that going to help!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It just is!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad, we've done the reflexive property five times now!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think I don’t know that!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Say that segment DA is congruent to AD.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There are literally no other fucking ways to do it! It’s fucking shit! Thats what it is!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You act as if I didn’t already freakin know that!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A loud groan.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck even is this one! We’ve managed to do three of them already. Try proving the triangles congruent now. Push random ones, like Side-Angle-Side.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is crap! ‘You don’t have enough proof to show that the blah blah blah.’ Stupid freaking thing! Freaking worthless!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo is unable to suppress her giggle, clasping a hand over her mouth, trying not to make too much noise. It was a relief to know that the current screaming match going on wasn’t an argument. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been at that for an hour and a half now.” she hears her son pipe in, drawing her attention to where he sat on the couch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo sets her bag down on the table, greeting her son with a large hug, “Hi bubs.” she mumbles into his hair, feeling his arms wrap back around her. In private, Rory was the biggest cuddler, touchy-feely person you’d ever met, but in front of his friends he tried way too hard to show he was ‘too cool’ for hugging his mom, so Jo took in these moments and held them close to her heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“An hour and a half huh?” she chuckles, running a hand through her son’s gelled hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rory snickers, hazel eyes shining with mischief, “Yeah, dad won’t stop cursing and Tissy just keeps screaming alongside him,” he sits back onto the couch. “I’m surprised neither one of them had lost their voice yet.” he smirks his crooked Karev smirk, focusing his attention on the TV where he had opened up Netflix, where he was currently binging Bates Motel. The name ‘Tissy’ came from when he was younger and couldn’t for the life of him say either Brynn nor Sissy. It seemed to have stuck all these years, and he was the only one who ever called his older sister that, even then ten years later.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sees him cringe, “I never called you mother right?” he asks, eyes not leaving the screen, where a certain Norman Bates is practically spooning his own mother in the bed, claiming that he couldn’t sleep. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo snorts, ruffling his hair fondly, “Definitely not. And if you ever do, you’re dead Ror, hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rory rolls his eyes playfully, giving his mom a grin. “I won’t. Promise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo heads up the stairs, the loud yells continuing to echo through the halls, which she chooses to ignore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad for the fiftieth</span>
  <em>
    <span> freaking</span>
  </em>
  <span> time—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“—What’s going on here?” Jo questions, causing both her husband and daughter to break away their concentration from the computer screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn’s face lights up at the sight of her mom standing in the doorway, more than thankful to have someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew stuff help her with her math. “Mom!” she exclaims, getting up from her place on the bed to give her mother a hug. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey baby. Care to explain to me why the second I walk through the door I'm greeted with screaming?” She questions, eyebrows raised as she sees Alex sheepishly avoid eye contact, suddenly finding the pictures that hung on the wall very interesting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brynn smirks, “Well, Dad sucks at math so-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“—Hey!” Alex interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t done this crap in like thirty years!” He defends himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo rolls her eyes and smiles of her own gracing her lips as she reaches the bed and takes a look at the problems on the computer. “Proofs?” she asks from confirmation, earning a nod from her husband and daughter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She hums, “Given: segment CA bisects angle BAD and segment CA bisects BCD. Prove: triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC.” she murmurs to herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The brunette laughs when she sees the fact that the pair had put down some form of the ‘reflexive property’ not one, not two, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven</span>
  </em>
  <span> times.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She grins triumphantly as she remembers how to do the problem, the skills seemingly coming back to her after years of them being dormant. “Next statement is angle BCA is congruent to DCA because…” she scrolls through the possible options the box provided, smirking when she found the right one. “An angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She watches as an angle pops up on the screen, only encouraging her to continue, “Then… angle DAC is congruent to angle BAC because an angle bisector divides an angle into two congruent angles.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another angle comes up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally,” she smirks, glancing to the side of for a brief second to take in the jaw dropped stares of the two behind her. Brynn was a whiz at math like her mom, but proofs was something she’d been struggling with since they’d started learning them yesterday. Geometry was no joke. Her and her dad had already gotten almost all of the problems done, but it had taken so long to do a few measly problems that they’d lost track of just how long they'd been sitting in the room, arguing back and forth over different possibilities to try. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Triangle ABC is congruent to triangle ADC, reason being Angle-Side-Angle.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She grins, wiping her hands together victoriously as she hits the submit button, a large green check with a <em>correct!</em> floating on the screen, going over the ways to solve the problem. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alex glares at her. He’d been working on these fucking proofs for so long now, and Jo just comes in and completes it in less than a minute?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you.” he gruffs, still glaring at both his wife and the computer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jo giggles, leaning over and pecking her husband’s lips. “Love you too.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She begins to walk out of the room, stopping and calling out over her shoulder as she reaches the doorway, “Now you just need to make sure the twins did their homework!” </span>
</p>
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